Stream of Thought for the Eastside Troopers

Its been a tough month for the troopers. I’m not talking about the police, but the street-level denizens of the DTES. I did a play around the turn of the century (which has since been turned into a Leacock award winning novel) called “City Boy in a Cowboy Town” by Mark Leiren-Young.  In it the impoverished down-and-out inhabitants of the eponymous Cowboy Town are referred to as troopers.  It kinda stuck for me, though no one ever understands what I am talking about. Not the police. The homeless.

I’m supposed to be writing something else at this very moment, but the sirens are far too regular outside right now. That’s a reality of this neighbourhood. The sirens at any time of night every night. Ditto chemically induced screaming, but that is often a different thing entirely. These past few weeks though have been rough.

First off it has been cold. Yeah, I know “rest-of-Canada” our notion of cold is laughable to you. But I grew up in the interior of BC. I know what sub forty weather is like. It has genuinely been cold here. Not sub forty. Not even sub fifteen. But as soon as it is sub zero people are freezing.  You can be hypothermic in temperatures ten degrees above zero. And that is where our warm climate really gets the homeless when we get an extended cold snap. We have the homeless population we have in Vancouver in part because of the warm weather. The homeless gravitate here because it is easier to survive when you don’t have the temperature extremes of the prairie provinces.  So there are more people out there to freeze, and they aren’t as prepared because they don’t usually have to be as prepared. They aren’t as prepared. The city isn’t as prepared. Its hard for either party to justify being prepared for something that happens so infrequently.

I ended up shin deep in a puddle of icy water  this past week. It was awful. Fortunately I was going to be in a warm place for most of the day and would be home to dry socks in a few hours. I can barely imagine not having had that in my immediate future. The degree to which I can imagine it is uncomfortable, to say the least.

And then there is the fentanyl.

I figure its been about a year since I first heard of a fentanyl death – maybe eighteen months. A young couple in North Vancouver – both dead, child left behind. Last week there were nine fatal overdoses in one night. Not all overdoses are fentanyl, but it is very clear that fentanyl is a serious culprit. That really was a night where the sirens never really stopped.  We hear stories in the news about the PTSD that emergency workers are experiencing right now – that they can literally save one person three times in a night.

I somewhat guiltily share this neighbourhood with these people. To some we are an evil – the gentrify-ers living in the buildings above their heads. To others we are a source. To some we are neighbours. I favour the last outlook, but I admit its complicated. Its not what I want to write about it tonight while a war for survival is fought in ear shot of where I sit.

I know these people. Not really well. But I know them. Some of them I know by name. Some I really like. A few really annoy me. Just like in any other social grouping. Except in this case its hard to judge my own motivations cleanly. The troopers who I like are easy to live with. They are also those who I am most likely to help when I can. The ones who annoy me are the ones who probably need help more, but in most cases I can least trust them to use my help productively. (That is code for “I can’t give them money because I am reasonably certain it will be used for drugs, not the food or shelter they claim it is for.”) I see a good number of them at least once a week and it makes me uncomfortable knowing that it inevitably that will end and more than likely it will end in some nearly anonymous tragedy that is already well into its middle act.

One day I will see each of them for the last time. It has happened before. The Push-up Guy. I gave him socks once when his feet were bare and mine were going to be warm at home soon enough. I don’t have much hope that he made it out alive. But he’s been gone for years now.  Ditto the Bad-hair-cut. The homeless aren’t really known for style, but this one… holy smokes – bad hair-cut. But I can’t do it justice and I don’t have a picture and I never will, because she is gone. Odds aren’t good there is a happy ending there either. Abdul. There may be a good ending to that tale. He may really have been a kid from Somalia who just got in a tight spot and was having some trouble getting out. I never saw any sign that he was anything but hungry. I hope he made it somewhere where he can get on with life. But I’ll probably never know.

I do know in a few cases. Troopers whose lives got better. One was a woman who we occasionally took a hot meal to when we had extra. One day she disappeared. She was old enough that it didn’t have to be particularly tragic to have meant she had died. But it turned out it wasn’t. It took about two years. Then one day there she was calling to our daughter from across the street – happy to see her and say ‘hi’ and looking considerably healthier. I wasn’t there, but I’ve been told she had gained some well needed weight and was almost unrecognizable for all the right reasons. Another was the case of someone from back home whose life took a bad turn. Every time I saw them they were a little worse, a little further gone. Then came the day that they walked right past me, not only not aware that the person they were brushing past was someone from “back when” but not aware that there was another soul in arms reach at all. I assumed that was the last time I would see them.  Then, a few years later, on Thanksgiving of all days, they were getting on the train I was getting off of, and a bit of hard living aside they looked as normal as anyone. I did not realize who it was. I was on the platform and the train was pulling away before I realized that my prediction that I would never seem them again was wrong and they had found a way free. These are the good stories.

But there will be lots of bad stories from this past month. It could take me months more before I realize that there are regulars who I don’t see any more and that the last time was before this brutal month.  I can’t even catalogue all the troopers I keep an informal mental tally of. Off the top of my head I can’t even think if there is currently anyone out there whose actual name I know. There’s the Tatted Wheelchair guy. The Friendly 7-11 Lady. The Dignified Spinster. The Disarmingly Honest Schizophrenic. Caucasian Crazy-Eyes. Slick. Hammond (Not his real name… unless by fluke.) Siberia. The One Armed Painter. Piano Man. Throaty Francophone… come to think of it, I haven’t seen her in ages.

There.  Right there. Throaty Francophone. Very annoying, that one. I’m relieved she is gone. But I want her to have got out in a good way. I have my doubts though. She didn’t seem to be trying to get out – like Abdul was. And she seemed too healthy to be catapulted out by hitting rock bottom. But rock bottom is different for everyone, right? And maybe she survived a bad overdose and that was all the wake-up call she needed. Or maybe she thought she was invincible and went too far, or was hooking and things went really really bad. I think we forget that that can still happen here in Vancouver. We got “the guy” so now no prostitutes are ever in any danger. Bull. Shit.

And any awareness we had for sex-workers in danger has been entirely overshadowed by the fentanyl crisis. I don’t even understand this. I admit it. What is the business model that includes selling a product that kills your customers at an alarming rate? Yes, heroin, crack, meth all do the same thing. But WAY less frequently. I really don’t follow how this is beneficial to the dealers cutting it into the supply. Unless I’m getting the metaphor completely wrong. There isn’t a war going on out in the streets of the DTES, the DTES is Birkenau and someone’s got it in their sick mind that fentanyl is the final solution. I feel a little dirty having even suggested it, but at least there is a logic there that makes some grotesque sense. If someone really wanted to clean up the “worst of the worst” of the Eastside, this would from a certain perspective help.

There’s the sirens again. Another trooper in trouble. Which of my neighbours this time? How long before I notice?

Take care out there. Good luck. May you find a good way out soon.

I am what is wrong with theatre in Vancouver. (Thoughts upon the death of the Vancouver Playhouse.)

Last night, Saturday March 10th marked what is expected to be the final performance of the Vancouver Playhouse. That is shitty. My circle of friends is full of people who do or have made their money in theatre from time to time.

I have made my money in theatre. Not now. Not for some time now. But once upon a time I had collected a paycheque from what I guess was a number of live performances that numbered in the plural thousands. I never performed on the Playhouse stage. Arts Club GI – check. Queen E. – check. Performance Works, Shadbolt, Playwrights, The Cultch, Production House, Gateway – check, check, check, check, check, check, and many other small local theatres extant and otherwise, as well as stages in every province but the Rock and the Territories.

I love making theatre.

But I fucking hate going to it.

I haven’t really made that much of a secret, but if I’m ever really going to be public about it, it may as well be now. Seventy five percent of the time that I am in a theatre I just want to get the hell out. I can sit through the worst of movies, but as soon as a theatrical production gives me the tiniest crack to slip a sliver of disappointment in… the entire house of cards is wedged apart.  But to be clear, I hate theatre so often, because I love good theatre so much.

I was raised on theatre. Our family went to every single production of every season by the Prince George Theatre Workshop (which is also barely holding on these days) as well as any touring shows that passed through town and the shows by the smaller am-dram-cos in PG that did one show every year or two. My first paid job ever was in a theatre. I took theatre in college. I started my own company at age 20 and toured Canada, the US and Australia for six years steadily. I owe so much of who I am to theatre. But the greater majority of what I see falls on the spectrum between disappointing to loathsome and/or boring. I am what is wrong with theatre.

It began during the 1995 Fringe festival. I hadn’t noticed it yet, but I was already becoming weary of watching mediocre theatre. And then… I saw Theatre Simple perform The Master and Margarita. It was awesome.... and it made me so fucking mad.  It occurred to me that this was totally wrong. The quality level of theatre should not be pitched at a level where the best thing I have seen in eons is based on a piece of (formerly) banned Russian literature that I would otherwise have precisely zero interest in. For christsake the baseline ought to be such that I see The Master and Margarita and I think “it was good, but I wasn’t so keen on the source material.” Anything else is theatrical laziness. Sure, there would always be shows that miss the mark, but those ought to be the exception, not the rule. But no. The Master and Margarita was far and away the best thing I had seen in ages. Yes, that event turned be into a creative snob – an elitist intellectual knob.

Gradually since then I’ve become FAR more selective about the theatre I go and see, and as a result I see much more on average that is genuinely good. But still far too often what I do see isn’t that good. The only thing that makes me angrier than feeling like I should walk out at intermission is when I don’t and I should have. Thankfully the last thing I saw at the Playhouse was one of the best pieces of theatre I have ever seen. Studies in Motion. That was the 2008-2009 season. 2008-2009. Oh yes, I am what is wrong with theatre.

The Playhouse’s subscription based dropped by half we are told, and that isn’t enough income to maintain a company. No secrets there. Theatre is expensive to make – just look at the prices it costs to get in. At those prices is it any wonder I get grumpy when I feel let down? Is it any wonder that half the Playhouse’s base apparently feels the same way? Now, I don’t want to point fingers at the Playhouse and declare that their quality is the cause of their downfall. I don’t think that’s the case. I think that the Playhouse consistently has put the most intriguing seasons together of all the local companies – often by a long shot. But that is an issue too. I’m not proclaiming anything new when I point out that the majority of the audience wants to see something familiar – probably because then it something they feel they can trust. I mean Jesus Christ, even the once original and edgy Mom’s the Word has been sequelled and re-hashed in so many ways over so many years that if I were to make a crack about the next iteration being titled Grandmom’s the Word and if the original cast read this, I honestly think there would be an even chance they’d look at one another and say “how the hell did he find out?” Sorry ladies, no disrespect intended. I wish I had a credit like that on my writing CV, but that’s probably pretty empty coming from someone who is what is wrong with theatre.

But back to my point… I am not alone. Too many people feel as though they can’t trust theatre. That is not our, the audiences', fault. Don’t for a second look at the unwashed masses and mutter to yourself how they just don’t care for culture. The question is “what about culture has made them want to care?” I have all but walked away from theatre and theatre was who I was for most of the first four decades of my life. I am not for a moment suggesting that the level of theatre has to be dumbed down. The Master and Margarita was an excellent example of that. Theatre just needs a serious overhaul. It needs to get its head out of its ass and look around at the wasteland surrounding itself. Theatre is broken. It is dying. I don’t pretend I can fix it, but I think it is fixable. Theatre must change. The Playhouse may be saved if the passionate voices who gathered in front of the theatre last night have anything to do with it, but that may not be what theatre actually needs.

Theatre must appeal. That is non-negotiable and self-evident, yet theatre too often abjectly fails to do so. Demanding that the audience must raise its game and figure out theatre is the wrong approach. Theatre must work harder to reach a wider public in an accessible way. Crying for more funding from the government is a backdoor demand upon that same uncaring public - that's a good way to not win them over. Theatre must lower the barrier for entry and invite the world back in. No one company can do this alone. Indeed individual companies are accomplishing this, but the disinterested public thinks of theatre as a whole entity. I find myself thinking of theatre as a whole entity, and I've been on the practitioners' side.

That entity – theatre – has to: Simplify (I do not think it was a coincidence that the company that did The Master and Margarita called itself “Theatre Simple.”) and innovate. Spend more time crafting with the intention of fascination, and make it more affordable to get in the door. Yes, that is a tough balance, but theatre was a beggars’ art in the past, its biggest folly may be that it is trying to pretend it isn’t best served by being be so today. Theatrical artists will scoff at the notion that they are being greedy, but fairly consistently, with only few exceptions, the best theatre I have seen has been made by those who could barely afford to get their shows on stage initially.  The well funded theatre is counter intuitively too often the most likely theatre to stink, and it bears the ticket price that is most guaranteed to disenfranchise. Many of those shoe-string efforts that have excelled, in the end, due to demand, make good money in the long run.  Shows become sensations and the creators have won the lottery artistically speaking.  As I write these words, it seems to me that this is practically speaking, a libertarian model – let the free-market decide what is good. (Okay, that was not where I imagined this was going, but it fits.) That may not sound like a healthy place for theatre, but it is a destiny that the theatre entity can choose to control. But what do I know. I am, after all, what is wrong with theatre.

And if the theatre entity doesn’t choose to control its destiny? Then it is going to continue dying. I doubt it will ever die. But it will continue to keep dying. It will whither. The pockets that remain will probably be rag tag and range from appallingly hackneyed to brilliant and subversive, but it will quit being culture. It will be relegated to sub-culture. That may seem like a romantic notion to some, but if you ask me, it would be a shame. ‘Cause as much as I dislike far too much theatre, when it is good, many many many people ought to see it, ‘cause it is fucking glorious!

AFTERMATH

There is a lot to write about, and I simply don't have time.  So I'm swinging in very close to point form here...

Hockey is over for the season... if you aren't one of those people who like me pretty much feverishly follow the summer-long sequence of NHL Awards, Rookie Draft, Free Agent Signings, Training Camp, Pre-Season...and we are right back to the beginning again without there ever being any real break from hockey.

THE SEASON
Lost game 1 (to LA) on my birthday - familiar territory.  Canucks lost their very first NHL game on my 1st birthday.
And it all got progressively better from there.
President's Trophy, bitches.

PLAYOFFS
Chicago - monkey off our back... and boy was it exciting what a squeaker that was.  I dropped my beer in the Cambie floor when Burrows sunk that puck.  UNFUCKINGBELIEVEABLEGOALIE #1 - Corey Crawford.
Nashville - probably the series that actually did us in.  Too many games.  Too much overtime.  Too much hard work.  But we prevailed and slayed UNFUCKINGBELIEVEABLEGOALIE #2 - Pekka Reinne.
San Jose - How many ways can you say "out-classed"?  They are a good team.  But they play our game, and we simply play it WAY better. UNFUCKINGBELIEVEABLEGOALIE #3 (the remaining piece of the Chicago demon) - Antti Niemi.

FINAL ROUND
A solid start, but in the end it is all about UNFUCKINGBELIEVEABLEGOALIE #4 - A.K.A. Tim Thomas. I hate that, but I respect it. He tallied a very serious contender for the greatest season any goalie has ever had and beating us in seven games raised the performance to even greater heights.  If he were playing any other team I'd have been saying his name in awe instead of as if it were an epithet.
...and the refi-ing seemed a bit lop-sided.
Game 3: 8-1... yeah that sucked.  But there was a lot of fluke in those 8 goals... even if you take those flukes out, we still lost by a good margin.
Game 4: 4-0 (Mark-I) Thomas.  That's all there is to say.  Tim Thomas.
Game 6: My now the ref-ing was feeling lop-sided.  (Though it never reached the absurdity of game 6 v. Chicago.)  And the Canucks kind of beat themselves on this one.  Two goals could have been enough...if Boston scored four less.

FINAL GAME
The fairest game of the whole series and we lost it fair and square.  I am surprizingly comfortable with that.  Disappointed?  Yeah, sure.  But game 7 was a pretty clean loss... which despite the fact that we shouldn't have ever got to game 7 acutally made losing it somehow more palatable. 
I had plans as to how I was personally going to make "THIS IS STANLEY-TOWN!!!" a local meme.  I guess I'll save it for next year.  Speaking of which, one thing that will not happen next year... this morning I shaved off my first and only playoff beard.  Damned thing drove me nuts towards the end.

RIOTS
Much has been said.  They were Canucks fans.  They weren't Canucks fans.  It is a sign of the times not a sign of hockey or our city.  It was the Black Bloc.  It was several dozen guys plus on-lookers.  It was thousands.  They were planning it all along - win or lose.  It was mostly 20 something guys from the 'outlying municipalities... or not.  Well whatever, it happened.  We lost the game, and we lost our dignity.
Quietest night on my street since May.  That was nice.  So was the "kissing couple."

RESPONSE
I sat at home in front of the computer participating as best I could with the on-line Citizen policing efforts which continue today.  Damn some of those guys are dumb.  They are getting what they deserve.
I was ultimately more actual use I think in the morning when Jodie and December and I went out and joined in the clean up.  We were there before most people got to work and already the lion's share had been done.  We still got our part in, and I got lots of pictures.  I hope the world recognizes this part of the story as clearly as the riot.  Most of us here are disgusted and mad, but very happy to be a part of the spirit that responded to last night's stupidity.

THE FUTURE
We are going to bring home a lot of hardware at the NHL awards.
NEVER in Canucks history has "there's always next year" held so much real currency.
Start naming skilled teams who failed to win the cup one year but came back for righteous revenge the next year.  Here's the answers from my lifetime: Edmonton (83-84), Detroit (94-95), Pittsburgh (08-09) I think we have the raw materials to be one of those teams.

EVEN SO
If the only thing that matters is the Stanley Cup, then our season was no better than the worst team in the league (cough - Edmonton - cough). I beg to differ.
Art Ross.
Jennings.
Nominations (and wins TBD) out the ying-yang: Hart, Vezina, Selke, Adams, Lindsay, Foundation & GM.
President's Trophy.
Western Conference Champions.
Highest goals for.
Lowest goals against.
Best power play.
#1 & 5 assist scorers league wide.
#1 & 4 point scorers league wide.
#2 +/- player league wide.
#1 Powerplay scorer.
#1 Shooting percentage (that is a bit of a joke - Mario Bliznak had one shot and he scored on it.)
It has been one awesome season of hockey.

See you on Granville Mall.

I, For One, Believe We have Done It

I had about half my voice yesterday from screaming so hard the previous night. From where I sat last night under the big screen at the Cambie it appeared that Vancouver was losing its mind.


With good reason.

The Canucks were finally winning a playoff game in the manner we'd been expecting all post season. But I think there was something else in the air. Not the collective hate-on for Ben Eager's appalling sportsmanship, nor reactions to the lass who showed us there is a new bra-size on the market with Stanley Cups.

I think we all suddenly saw our future. The one where the last 40 years are behind us. The one where Vancouver is not only home to Lord Stanley's Park, but his coveted Cup as well.

"Whoa whoa whoa! Those chickens ain't hatched. We still need six wins. It's the playoffs, anything can happen."

Yes. You are absolutely right. But go with me a moment. Look ahead 6-12 games to the night that I imagine I'll be crying tears of joy and Granville & Robson looks a lot like it did on February 28 2010. We will look back at Tuesday's game as the point where it all fell into place.

The only people who think the remaining Eastern Conference teams stand a chance against either of the top two Western teams, wear Tampa and Boston jersey either professionally or recreationally. (Though Chara and Thomas will put up a better fight.) And a 2-0 lead in the Conference final is nearly insurmountable. The Sharks are showing no sign of having a miracle comeback in them, and the San Jose news outlets are singing a defeatist tune that would have sounded all too familiar to Canucks fans not long ago. In other words, the real battle for the Stanley Cup moves to the HP Pavilion tonight, and we seriously have the upper hand. Indeed a 4 or 5 game series while the East hammer each other for 6 or 7 will all but seal the deal.

What I am saying is that if the team sticks to the game plan, and doesn't act with laissez-faire entitlement, we have turned the corner. Tuesday night, in the back of every Canucks fan's heart was the knowledge that with that game we had most likely won the Stanley Cup.

The Re-lighting of the "W"

I really needed to do some refreshing of editing basics so I took some half-assed footage that I shot on my balcony the night after we moved in and a number of stills I've taken over the years, and a few other sourced out pieces and made a very short documentary...

The Olympic Hangover Begins

With the dust settling from the 2010 games, I can see from here that the enormous Canada flag has been taken down from Athlete's Village, Abbott Street appears as though it may be hours away from being open to through traffic, and I suspect that at least in Vancouver - if not nation wide - there has been a record level of absenteeism this morning; there is little doubt that Canada brought it's Eh! game to Vancouver over the past two and a half weeks.

There was much political anxiety leading up to the games; protesters variously got their message out, looked like fools, caused despicable violence and for the most part shortly sat down and shut up.  The "Olympic Tent Village" (Heard of it?  Yeah, it didn't get much attention after their first night.) is visible from the window where I sit and write this.  Last night the police were well in evidence around them.  I bet the protestors will tell you the police were holding them back...  I suspect the police were in fact making sure somone was there to protect them.  Had the protesters even tried to raise their voice anywhere near Robson and Granville last night they probably would have been torn limb from limb - if the ecstatic crowd could have been convinced to look.

We should never forget the luge tragedy that preceeded the opening ceremonies, but neither that tragedy, nor the death of a VANOC bus driver, nor the loss of Joannie Rochette's mother should dampen the overall sense of Canadian victory that has been sparked by the 2010 games.  As it stands, they have all made up part of the greater narrative that has concluded gloriously.

Premature declarations from Blighty that the Vancouver games were the "worst games ever"; scoffing from competing countries about Canada's "jingoistic arrogance" and "pathetic, ineffectiveness" (most loudly from Americans); and grumpy Russians, unhappy that things weren't going their way, only served to spur Canada onwards defiantly.

John Furlong's clunky French could not deflate the power of his words.  I haven't personally had much to say for his ability to speak publically.  His opening ceremonies speech was dull and cliched, but he could not have said it better last night when he defined our golden bookends: "Alexandre, your first Gold Medal gave us all permission to feel like and behave like champions. Our last one will be remembered for generations."  The narrative of Bilodeau's medal winning performance was fantastic on the day - our first gold medal on Canadian soil.  How naive we were.  Before the dust had settled we would have heard our anthem played more times than any country in these or any winter games, and that last gold medal... "Henderson Scores!" is no longer the call behind the greatest goal in our country's history.

From my apartment in Gastown, these games were a success.  Listening to my firends who were working on the inside, they were a success.  Walking down Granville Street last night before and after the closing ceremonies - there is little doubt that the people who came to Vancouver and those who merely "came downtown" thought it was a success.

People came to Canada during these games and we brought Canada to the world.

We opened the games by showing the world the Canada that truly is.  The one that lives behind the cliches.  We kicked a lot of sporting ass during the games - I shant belabour that point more than I already have elsewhere.  By any report I have seen, we were excellent hosts.  And when all was said and done, we winked.  From bringing out Catriona LeMay Doane to (finally) light her pillar of the olympic cauldron, to the over-the-top march of Canadian iconography with the cliche's literally inflated to absurd proportions we demonstrated one of the greatest of Canadian cliches - we don't really take ourselves that seriously.

Yeah, I cringe at the oatmealy uninterestingness of Nickleback; Avril Lavigne is only a little ahead of the curve for her category of teener-pop; and K-OS is not my kind of music at all... but honestly, I have to recognize that Spirit of the West, Rush and The Hip would have been seen as 'old hat.'  Neil Young did a fine job of filling the rock dinosaur hole.  Indeed, I've never much liked Neil Young, but he was perfect last night.

The numbers will follow.  No doubt there will be reports about how the grotesque over-spending is going to take years to recover from.  It may be true.  But I don't think there can be any doubt that these games have been far more successful than could have been expected.  We may even look back in future years at the recession that made the lead up to these games so financially painful and declare that in the long run, the success of the games gave us a leg-up in the slow climb out.  I am no economist.  This could go either way, but had you asked me before the games, I would have not have been able to tell you with a straight face that a positive outcome was financially possible.

Vancouver, Whistler and Richmond respectively will get the direct legacy of the Athlete's Village, the Sliding Centre, the Olympic Centre and the Oval; as well as the various other indirect items that were piggy-backed onto the games - the Canada Line, the new Sea-to-Sky highway, the Vancouver Convention Centre.  It's going to be a long time before our taxes catch up with those.  But, I doubt Vancouver (and by extension, Canadian) tourism could possibly have benefited more, both immediately or in the long term. 

Canadian sport will never be the same.  If you'll forgive the allusion, Calgary was a shot in the arm, but Vancouver will be a full-on massive steroid program.  Children who were inspired by Calgary Games athletes competed here and won.  In the years to come we will see the effects of this Olympics on our youth. 

Canadian spirit has shifted too.  I don't know that there is any price that can be put upon a feeling of pride in your country.  May we maintain a sense of humility as we move forward, but the patriotism displayed on the streets of Vancouver since February 12th feels very very good.  That may be why Neil Young was so perfect last night.  "Long May You Run."

How's that "How's that 'own the podium' initiative working out, Canada?" snarkiness working out for you Brian?

The cherry on the cake.

And really, even without the cherry, it was pretty great cake.

The Only Card in Vancouver

This occurred to me the other day, and watching the curling - the commercials, specifically - just now reminded me.

You may know that Visa is the official credit card of the 2010 Olympic games.  If you are watching the games, Morgan Freeman is reminding you every 20 minutes.

It really is the only card.  Not even debit is usable in olympic venues.  Even theATMs will only take Visa cash advances.  I grudgingly conceed the credit card sponsorship thing, but extending it right down to ATMs seems a bit extreme to me.  At least they still take cash, so planning will avoid the issue for anyone who feels the need to fight the power... mind you I suppose those sorts aren't going to the events anyhow.

Back to Morgan Freeman; that is the thought I had that I wanted to share....

Is it my imagination, or does the wording and phrasing at the end of the commercials seem to subtly imply that indeed there is no other card accepted in the city?

"The only card accepted at Vancouver [insert tiny enjambed pause] 2010 Olympic Games."*

It's that tiny pause and the eschewing of the gramatically obliged "the" that do it for me.  I know it's mostly imaginary, but now that I've heard it I can't not notice it.

*Despite my wrye comment about Morgan Freeman coming on every 20 minutes, it's not true & to make matters more difficult, there are other variations of the commercial.  It took me forever to be listening when the right one came on so I could fact check my quote.

Bilod-AU!!!

A short one this time...

I admit that I leapt to my feet shouting victoriously when Alexandre Bilodeau won Canada it's first Olympic Gold on home soil, but a day later...

It's really nothing more than a Gold - cool and pride worthy as it is.  More than anything its a monkey off our national back.  I even felt pretty much inevitable that it would happen during these games - or is that just me?  Its good it happened early in the games so that one more level of pressure is off our athletes.

A couple of side bars:

It was almost as sweet to see that prick Dale Begg-Smith pout his Silver medal win.  What a knob.

As of this writing, we have four medals in three (still incomplete) days - which is roughly on track to tieing our biggest medal count.  That is slightly misleading as more medals get awarded later in the competition.

You are a bunch of fucking ass-hats, not "Heart Attacks."

Well, that didn't take long.

Morning of day one and the protestors got violent.

What the fuck do they really think they are accomplishing?  Their message - such as it was - has now been entirely undermined by the extremist approach.

Yesterday I went down to Victory Square to see part of the last of the Torch Relay.  Protestors blocked the runner shouting "No Olympics on Stolen Native Lands" - which is such a load of crap, these protestors have apparently not heard of the four host nations... who all agreed to the olympics. 

The police handled things well.  They simply lined up between the procession and the protestors and the relay went around their sit-in... as the runner went past me (I overheard the police plans and thus was able to reposition myself very well), it became apparent that by design (having forseen the likelihood of a protest of this manner at that location) or accident the torch bearer at that location was in fact a particularly jubilant native fellow.  It rather undermined the protest's weight - even if it was a valid complaint.

Yesterday's protestors looked kind of foolish, but they were nothing worse than that.

I believe that protest absolutely can be valid.  But as soon as you are stepping on the rights of others - doing harm to them or their property - you are crossing a line.  That happened this morning.

A group of protesters passed under our window this morning - marching up Hastings St.  As they got to the intersection of Abbott, a by-stander who stepped up and shouted back at the protestors.  What was shouted was inaudible at the 24th floor.  A black-clad protestor actually pushed the man down to the street.  The police at that time did nothing.  I assume this was the same group that would eventually break windows downtown and that can be seen in the video linked above.

Actions like this deflate the opportunity of all protests to have an effect.  Anarchy is NOT an effective platform for change.  It is merely a process for unthinking reactionaries to demonstrate their lack of appreciation for the democracy they do have.

Here is what I have to say to the protestors:
Yes, you have the right to dissent.  You do not have a right to hurt other people or their property. If you really had the courage of your convictions you'd protest with your face, not a balaclava.  If you aren't willing to stand behind your actions you should really take a good look inward at your motivations.  From where I stand you look like a bunch of punks who want an excuse to break stuff, not like anyone who really wants to be taken seriously.  If you are so smart that you are convinced you are right, then you ought to be smart enough to make your argument in a cogent fashion that doesn't require violence.  Your approach is no different than that of school-yard bullies.  You want the world to know that this is your world too, but in the process you are forgetting that it is OURS too.  In so doing you separate yourslf from those of us who you could have counted as allies in a valid cause in a legititimate demonstration.  But as it stands, I will kindly request that you get the fuck off my side.

UPDATE:  Here is the VPD's take on the incident.   and... Lot's of Pictures

Next Up on this Channel - the 2010 Olympics!

The Vancouver Olympics are practically upon us - tonight I went and saw the opening ceremonies dress rehearsal.  It was very cool, but that's all I'm going to say about it.  They do request your discretion and so forth.  I'm not a big olympics booster, but I'm not a dickhead either.

I'm not sure what they could say or do if I were to announce that "Anne Murray jumps out of a giant cake and raps Snowbird but changed the lyrics to 'Snowboard'." [NOTE: That does not happen in the ceremony... or rather, maaaaybe it happens,  maybe it doesn't, maybe something similar happens.]  But I just don't see the point in giving anything away.  Suffice to say the stage craft is predictably awe inspiring.

Getting into BC Place was reasonably simple - security wasn't that bad.  But getting away from the building was a bit nuts.  The route to get away - ultimately to the same entrance we arrived at - was long and circuitous, and despite being a neighbourhood that I am quite familiar with (I have worked mere blocks from the stadium for over five years I bike and walk around and past it regularly) I spent an awfully large amount of the time trying to grok where the hell I was being directed to and whether that was going to be good or bad for getting home.

Get this!  For those people taking the Expo/Millenium Skytrain line away from the venue - you will actually end up being directed to Main Street station.  If you are unfamiliar with Vancouver, there is also a station named Stadium Station.  It is named Stadium because it is the closest station to the Stadium.  Main Street Station is a 10 minute walk further down the line.  To be fair, once you've navigated the labyrinthine security course away from the venue the difference between going to Main Street and Stadium is nominal... but it still seems broken.

I've said this in a dozen places already, I did not vote for the Olympics.  Indeed, I voted against them in the plebicite.  But they are here and I have every intention of enjoying what my tax dollars are paying for, and every intention of making the experience as pleasant for our international guests as I can.  The latter is the best route to getting the most out of it for the residents of Vancouver - the time for protesting is essentially past.  There will come a time again when we should clearly lay out cautionary tales of how Vancouver has been ass-fucked by the IOC.  But that is not how we will build tourism over the next few weeks, that is how we will undermine our position of (grudging) opportunity.

Friday night, Jodie and I went out and witnessed some of the free delights of the Olympic event.  We saw the majesty of Vectorial Elevation and shared a very special moment.  It's going to be a very interesting few weeks, that is for certain.

Not So Miserables

I'm not a big fan of musicals. I don't have a default of dislike towards them, I just find that they need to be pretty special for me to like them.

I really liked the film Chicago. I had fun being in Guys and Dolls in high-school. I look forward to someday seeing each of Avenue Q and Wicked. But more often than not I just find the convention of spontaneously breaking into song to reveal ones inner thoughts or to declare one's romantic love just a little bit weird.

All that said, I frikken LOVE Les Miserables. It is hands down my favourite musical of all time. It is epic and tragic and uplifting all at the same time.

I've even been in a condensed (deliberately humourous) rap-version of it – but that is a story in its' own right.

I've seen it five times. The first four were various versions of the Canadian touring cast. The fifth was a preview of the local production opening at the Arts Club here in Vancouver in two days time.

I hoped as I waited for the show to begin that it would diverge from the staging format of the original production. Some shows are constrained by proprietary rights on the design – the essential argument being that the design is inherent to the show. Little Shop of Horrors is one of these shows. (In Little Shop's case mounting the production without using the attached designs for the man-eating plant costs extra.) I was more interested in seeing something new from the show than to see a re-mounting of practically the same show with a smaller budget.

It was apparent immediately that I was going to get something new. Before the first word was sung it was clear that the signature revolve that dominated the stage in the classic production was nowhere to be seen.

The show itself was uneven. It reached peaks of emotion similar to the more accustomed versions, but it came up short at least as many times.

To be fair, I am rather certain that the show I saw was the first time the production had been in front of a paying and objective audience.

My guess is that the cast hadn't yet come to realize that a show this big has no place for humility. It's big and can support a huge performance. Which is not to say that it wasn't effective, but it can be so much more. And once it is trusted to hold up its end of the melodrama it can bear the weight of their raw emotion.

At time's they hit it. Kieran Martin Murphy only half embodies the rich soul of Jean Valjean until the second act when he delivers one of the most awe inspiring renditions of "Bring Him Home" ever. Rejean Cournoyer also reaches for the upper limits of his role with Javert's final song. Jeffrey Victor as Marius is out-charisma-ed by Jonathan Winsby's Enjolras until after the latter's final exit and he has no chance to answer to Victor's wonderfully wrought "Empty Chairs at Empty Tables." Spirit of the West front-man John Mann even fails to come out the gate strong, though gets there later. The Thenardier's as roles are saddled with the task of having their best song – by a country mile – be their first song, leaving them little place to go. Previous portrayals have answered this issue by making such a big meal of the first that the latter ones are inevitably forgotten. Mann and Nicola Lipman (in possibly the most jarring yet ultimately successful casting of the show) finish stronger than they began. Almost as if they're wilfully trying to not retread the well-worn territory of previous "Master of the House" renditions by under-playing it.

As the show went on the performances grew stronger. I continue to chalk it up to being a show that is still finding it's legs – the cast getting more confident as it goes along.

I never felt Rebecca Talbot lived in the costume shoes of Eponine – the role I once rapped (and was no more effective, just silly really) and indeed I was hardly moved by "A Little Fall of Rain" a song that always chokes me up. I was amused to see her surprised reaction to the audience's overwhelmingly positive response – a deserved (despite my quibbles) standing ovation. She didn't seem to be alone... more fuel to my theory that the cast was trying on the size of the show in front of an audience for the first time.

For the most part the child actors are solid. Joshua Ballard as Gavroche is engaging as Gavoroche, Rachael Withers as Young Eponine finds no emotional reality and merely demonstrates her judgment of her character... and thankfully is off stage in little more than one scene, Emily Machette falls between the two as Young Cosette - luckily landing far closer to the former than the latter.

Doing Les Miserables at this particular juncture puts two numbers in particular under inevitable scrutiny. The previously mentioned "Bring Him Home" – Kieran Martin Murphy out sings Jaimie Pugh in a walk. Pugh is tender and beautiful, but Murphy adds drama with fantastic dynamics. Sarah Jean Hosie doesn't fare as well against her virtual competition Susan Boyle. I suspect she may have even been psyching herself out. She knows, like everyone else does, that Boyle's "I Dreamed a Dream" instantly became one of the most viewed pieces of music on YouTube ever. The pressure to match that performance is unavoidable, and counter productive. Hosie bucks the trend of the show and tries too hard.

Excepting a few surprisingly cheap bits of lazy stagecraft the staging itself is more successful and intriguing than clunky... though on occasion it is the latter. I am surprised that Director Bill Millerd, AD of one of the largest theatre companies in the country slips into the a few hackneyed moments of staging that threaten to de-rail the show. It's as if the show runs on five gears but Millerd only has four.

I'd be curious to see the show a sixth time later in the run to see how it has matured. I expect many of my criticisms will be answered as the actors are inspired by the strength of the material to reach the heights that the show's structure can support building up to.

Damn that Puck Luck!

Whatever you do, don't make the mistake of accusing the Canucks of rolling over and dying.

And while I'm at it, let me compile a shot list of reasons the call-in radio-show crowd will be perpetuating – none of which are the reason they lost:

Bad officiating.

A no-show from Mats Sundin.

Poor coaching.

Playing defensively.

I'm not even going to get down on Luongo for looking human in the conference semi-finals.

So what did it then? I propose it was a confluence of things – let's face it, it almost always is – some of which have seeds of truth in the points listed above, but as much as anything, that elusive x-factor "puck-luck" worked against us more than in favour of us, largely by when it reared its head. The Canucks got favourable bounces and unforeseeable circumstances, but never when it counted.

Few people mention or even noticed when in game two a Canucks player lost his stick; if flew up in the air, half of the distance into the defensive end, landing... right back in its owners hands. It didn't amount to anything. I don't even recall who it was and can't find it on-line... because it never made a bit of difference.

But when it mattered most, time after time, the 'Hawks got the breaks.

Game one was a squeaker. The Canucks came out strong with three goals, and then gave up three before taking advantage of the 'Hawks aggression and getting behind their defence for a three on one game winner.

Game two the Canucks came out blazing again, and again it bit back. This time it was a disaster. Chicago's facility with the stretch-pass owned the Canucks, and even though Luongo was still making some spectacular saves he wasn't a sheet of plywood across the goal-mouth and pucks were making it in. To his credit, most of the shots that made it in were good plays on Chicago's part. If anyone was to blame, it was the skaters in front of him – but in their defence, a locked-down game was clearly not the plan. To make matters worse, two back to back bad bits of luck burned the Canucks hard. First, on the penalty-kill – which up to that point had been the Canucks stock-in-trade for months – the puck went off Willie Mitchell's stick over the glass in the defensive end. There wasn't the least bit of intention to do so on his part, it just happened that way. On the ensuing three on five Kelser broke his stick and could not get to the bench to get another, effectively giving the Hawks a five on two and a half. It's no wonder they scored, and that is where things really turned in that game. The flood gates opened and Luongo let more pucks past him than he had in the entire St. Louis series. Psychologically I propose that was a HUGE blow.

For game three coach Alain Vigneault recognized that Chicago's style of offence – specifically that stretch pass – HAD to be shut down. And for the most part, in game three it worked. It would be the last game the Canucks would win.

Game four the Canucks employed the same strategy that won them game three. And why not? Letting the Chicago offence have its' way had led to near disaster in game one, and DID lead to disaster in game two. The plan worked. For most of the game. With less than three minutes left Willie Mitchell had to make a split-second decision about where to clear the puck. He made the high-percentage choice – the one he should make on instinct when there is no time to consider. In other words, in MOST cases clearing the puck along the boards instead of up the middle is the right play for a defenseman to make. This time however there happened to be a flotilla of Blackhawks where he was clearing to... and they scored. Overtime went the Hawks' way too. And THAT was the real turning point of the series. I don't think there is any hockey literate fan who would really bother arguing otherwise.

Game five Vigneault stuck to the plan. It had worked in game three and had for all practical purposes worked in game four – except for those last few crucial minutes. He felt he had more to be scared of the 'Hawks shooting game, and that seems like a reasonable assumption. Once again it nearly works. But twice more puck-luck fucks us late in the game. Arguably Kelser's botched clearing attempt was bad luck giving Bfuglien a momentum changing goal. If someone wants to declare that Kelser failed on that play, I won't stop them. He was mid-check and clearing one-handed. Even if he failed, he was making the play under duress. But then... on the penalty-kill again, Mitchell (Notice how often he is associated with the bad puck luck? Hmmm... perhaps we should be looking harder at Mitchell, but I don't hear him being offered the horns much.) breaks his stick... and Chicago gets the go-ahead. And then to add insult to injury... that is very nearly a pun – with Luongo out of net for the extra attacker in the final two minutes and the assault on Khabibulin mounted, Kelser and Salo trip over each other allowing Havlat an empty net goal. He was probably half-embarrassed to put it in the net, but how could he not?

With the series on the line, Vigneault was put in a bad position. He had to change the game plan again. He had to abandon the strategy that had worked in game three and had worked in games four and five – except for crucial moments where fate had different plans – BECAUSE despite being effective for 90% of the game, that 10% where it didn't cost us the game... twice. He was forced to go back to the strategy that had nearly lost us one game and lost us a second BADLY.

Game six... was insane. A five – seven outcome for the Hawks doesn't tell the tale. The whole game was back and forth and even in the dying minutes two goals behind it still felt like the Canucks might come back. Not much puck luck giving the Canucks the gears in this game. The team just isn't the right team to beat Chicago at their own game. Vigneault accurately said this himself a week ago in mid-series. We made a good show of it, but in the wash the Canucks played better defensive games against Chicago than the run and gun games.

Before game six started, Ami, one of the friends I watched with asked me to predict what was going to be the game story. I said "Knowing that if we don't win that it's the last game of his career, Sundin will play like we've never seen him play." I'd argue that he did. He scored what in almost any other game would have been the game winner but it was soon answered, and he was regularly in the play. For the playoffs, Mats Sundin was third to the Sedins in both scoring and goals. Mats Sundin was NOT the problem on this team.

Bad officiating? Alain Vigneault has the class to not bitch about iffy-calls. He knows they all equal out over time. Canucks fans can suck it up and do the same. I doubt that there was a single call in this series that the refs heard back from Toronto about after the fact.

Bad coaching – Vigneault did what he had to do and made the right choices. They just don't always work out. If anything, he should have stuck to his guns and kept with the defensive game for game six. The previous two losses under that system were mostly due to unfortunate circumstances. But I can't say I blame him for changing. If he stuck to the plan and lost he'd put his job in jeopardy. Making the change, win or lose, he'd made a proactive choice. Alain will still be our coach next year.

Defensive play? – The Canucks won one and lost two for each style of play; offensive and defensive. I don't like to count empty-net goals – they skew the stats away from the real game story. In any case, take the games the Canucks played defensively and the games they played offensively and compare them. All goals counted, the Hawks out-scored the Canucks 7-6 in defensive games; and 16-13 in offensive games. Take away empty net goals and its 6-6 in defensive games and 16-12 in offensive games. Though I don't have the figure in front of me, I am confident that if the amount of time the Canucks held the lead in those games were compared, the difference would be even more apparent. Now... which way came closer to winning?

Anyhow... there's always next year!

Keep Vigneault. Re-sign the Sedins. Give Mitchell a good shake. Hope Kelser plays more like his best than his mediocre self. Give Sundin a heart-felt handshake, thank him for the effort, and buy him a watch. Think hard about the futures of Salo and Demitra... they too may be put out to stud, but not with a hint of shame. Then acquire a few really promising free agents and show Luongo that this is a team he's going to want to keep fighting alongside of after next season... you know, the season where we win the Cup.

The Illiad over The Odyssey

An open letter to the Vancouver Mayor and Council,

RE: The Odyssey Night Club

I expect that City Council generally fields more complaints than commendations about their collective actions. This will be the latter.
For starters, in the spirit of full-disclosure; I am a former West End resident. I have not lived there for nearly five years; I am straight; my girlfriend, whose apartment I stay at regularly, lives within 100 meters of the former proposed future site of the Odyssey Night Club on Denman street; and you'll have to take my word for it that I'm not homophobic, though any thorough search of my past would certainly find the heavy balance of by actions to support that claim. I should also mention that while my girlfriend is my direct connection to this issue, what follows does not speak for her - it is my own frustration with a segment of an otherwise well self-representing community and their need to rely upon unsound argument and false premises that fuels this message, combined with a desire to commend council for seeing through the childish and unproductive politicizing being done by the side which feel wronged.
Thank you and congratulations for your recent decision disallowing the Odessey to re-open on Denman street.I have over the past five days heard an awful lot of outrage from within the gay community I am in touch with, and it disgusts me. What I am witnessing is a demographic who rightfully and genuinely feels persecuted, but that feeling of victimization is being irrationally applied in this case.
I've posted a few comments politely explaining the 'other' side of the argument in various locations - including blogs, forums and gay friend's outraged Facebook comments - and in all cases (most unfortunate in the latter case) they have been deleted, and if responded to at all, done so in a persistently hysterical manner. Hence I figured I should respond directly to you via email and publically on my own blog.
Apologies to council for much of what follows is information that you will already know as you are in the thick of it, I include it for the casual reader reading this as an open letter.
I will begin by stating that I fully support the effort to find a new home for the Odessey, but I stress the need to find a solution that will balance the impact as best as possible. I am convinced that the location on Denman was absolutely not the answer that would provide balance.
There is a common assumption in the pro-Odessey-on-Denman-camp, (I may regret this, but for Brevity I'll henceforth use the term "Prodcamp".) that being a vital part of the gay community - a gay-neighbourhood - that Denman street is an ideal place for the night club. I have lived a block off Davie street - behind a relatively quiet night club, but I'll get back to that - and spent plenty of time at my previously mentioned girlfriend's apartment, roughly the same distance from Denman. There is a world of difference in the neighborhoods. While both are rich examples of the gay community, comparing them to one another is not unlike comparing the entertainment district of Granville Street to Shaugnessy. One is where the younger crowd lives and goes to for their night-life, the other is where the married and older citizens settle. Do not be fooled by the propinquity of Davie and Denman compared to the other example. It's a smaller and more densely populated demographic thus the distance is less spread out.
Despite being a major street, Denman is not a 'party street.'
As mentioned above, I have lived behind a relatively quiet nightclub - a gay night club, so the comparison does bear a layer of correlation. Closing time was NEVER quiet, and occasionally I was compelled to call the police due to unreasonable noise from the patrons afterhours in the alley... yes, I am avoiding the gory details.For the most part though we did not complain about the noise - it was merely the few outrageous exceptions - but it needs to be stressed that we moved into that neighbourhood fully aware of both the general night-life along Davie and the specific from said club. It bears saying that this was in the days before smoking was pushed out into the street. That is not a judgement on smoking by-laws, simply relevant framing, as smokers would by necessity spread out along Denman street and ajoining side streets and alleys.Another aspect that the Prodcamp seems to have a tin-ear about is that if the neighbourhood is against the club in the first place that the number of complaints to the owners, council and the police are going to be magnitudes greater than would be experienced in a neighbourhood where the club is established. It's unwelcome nature (not for being gay, just for being loud) would NOT serve it's longterm health as a club - an for the most part, THAT is the crux of the problem, and where Michael Levy is actually being the short-sighted one, contrary to his claims about City Council. COuncil has recognized that noise pollution in the neighbourhood is the primary concern, and that is bang on. It's necessary to acknowledge with out predjudice the existence of largely anonymous, but more specifically spontaneous sexual activity that is ignited within a club. This can happen at straight or gay clubs, thus is not specific to the Odyssey. But when correlated to the proximity of the proposed 911 Denman location to Stanley Park - a known cruising location - it is unreasonable to suggest that couples and individuals would not leave the club heading west through a quiet residential neighbourhood - possibly making it to Stanley Park, possibly not waiting that long - and then have to make a return trip through the same neighbourhood. This is in addition to the expected and accepted diaspora along major thoroughfares at the end or even during a given night's entertainment.
Additionally, putting the club in a location better accessible to other clubs (gay or not) is to the advantage of both patrons out for the evening and to police patrolling. This latter point has little to do with responses to complaints or incidents and is primarily with regards to standard patrolling of night-life. The further the police have to travel, the more their resources are unnecessarily stretched. In the rare event that there is a need to respond to an incident the distance only exacerbates the problem.
There are a few more fallacies and mis-understandings I wish to address as they regularly come up as part of the argument:
Odyssey supporters claim that the noise can be controlled. This is a totally unsupportable claim. For starters the club cannot be actively responsible for revellers who have left the club, they can opnly take flack for it post-facto. Additionally, it is ridiculous to speak for future patrons five and ten years down the road, no matter how many current patrons swear that they themselves will be quiet as they gather and depart.
Council passed a motion to support the Odyssey in finding a new location, as motioned by Councillor George Chow. There seems to be great propensity for the Prodcamp to ignore this. This sadly strikes me as further evidence of an internal need to wield political weight by the demonstrating the false appearance of persecution.The Odyssey IS a cultural icon. Every resonable effor to preserve it should be made in a location where the impact will be less severe, possibly even predominantly welcome. Somewhere along the Davie corridor - not far from it's current location - is the obvious solution, if at all possible. Though if the gay community is prepared to venture out to other neighbourhoods, not specifically percieved as gay, it may be a good thing to break out into either the Granville entertainment district or Gastown. There is an acknowledgeable argument that this might not be as safe; but this should be explored as a counter to the equal an opposite argument that gay activity might be "ghettoized" in the West End, a circumstance that would be reprehensible in either an active or passive form. I believe this latter circumstance would be the opposite of councillor Woodsworth's intentions in her excellent public statements on the subject, and she should stand proud behind her comments and not listen to the ludicrous public attacks of the likes of Joan-E.
Contrary to many attacks, the Odyssey is NOT being forced to close. It is being forced to move by having their lease cancelled - which must happen in order for an AIDS hospice to be built on City land. To quote another public letter from the Prodcamp "Maybe you should leave the Odyssey where it is and try and find a new place for the Hospice." Ouch. This is from a letter within the gay community. I am certain it's not representative of the whole, but it does demonstrate the headspace of some of the Prodcamp, who are willing to throw some of the worst-off segment of their community under the bus for a place to party. It makes me sad. Though... if it is possible to extend the Odyssey's lease for a time longer as they search for a more reasonable location - without impacting upon the building of the hospice, I heartily support and recommend it. Today, April 14th council is to be meeting on exactly this matter, and as I write this I do not know the result.
Another mis-characterization by the Prodcamp is that the opposition is from the elderly. This is fundamentally not true. I happen to know a number of people in the neighbourhood who are not among the elderly who are not in favour of the club moving into the neighbourhood - and at this point, what is the point of name-calling?
I have thus far only managed to uncover one side's versiopn of the alleged "Chinese Restaurant" comment by councillor Chow. I suspect it is being mischaracterized. As it comes across - without ever a direct quote - from the Prodcamp is that Councillor Chow said that when his grandfather's favourite Chinese Restaurant was closed, he was disappointed but eventually he found another.As it appears - and quite possibly in actuality - it's an unfortunate statement. But what was the intention and context? When Councillor Chow's Grandfather was a young man the Chinese population of Vancouver was marginalized - nothing like the enormous and healthy community of today, quite possibly even more marginalized than today's gay community. That's the context. The point is that if the Odyssey closes it's doors forever there will be a void. It will fill. It will fill fast. That's a reality. Hopefully it won't come to that, but if it does, it won't take long before in all practical circumstances there is no difference between what exists today and what exists in the future.
Many of the Prodcamp are prone to making claims about the Odyssey's singular position on the gay community. To hear some, you might think it's the only gay-club in town. Others make the assertion that it's the only gay-club with dancing. Well, I think it's time that we turn to Joan-E for facts rather than hysteria: "Vancouver has Numbers, 1181, Pumpjack, Pulse, Celebrities, The Fountainhead, Oasis and Score. Of those, three have dancing for a combined capacity of around 1500 - all this for Western Canada’s largest gay population."
For those in the gay community who are taking up the stances that this is not a gay issue (or at least isn't until the currently fictional time council approves for a straight-club to open in the same premises); and those who are residents who would have been affected in their comfortable homes with their long-time companions off Denman street, I want to thank you too for being the reasonable people you are.
For those straights who opposed the club, and ever made any sort of assertion of evil in the gay community... please, we are not on the same side - or to the degree we are, you aren't helping.
Once again, congratulations to council for making a well reasoned and forward thinking decision, I'm sure you don't hear that often enough.

Sincerely, Kennedy Goodkey

Pickton Begins

Well, here we are.
Another hugely public trial.

Robert Pickton is on trial for the first six of twenty six murders of prostitutes on the Vancouver DTES (Downtown East-side). This one has been a long time coming. Five years since he was charged.

http://www.cbc.ca/news/background/pickton/

In that time I have had a few brushes up against the case.

Firstly - as things were heating up towards the conviction, I was involved in a one night performance of a short-play called 'Missing Women.' It was singled out as one of the highlights of 'Theatre Under the Gun' that year. I had participated the previous year and had fun, but this particular year the group I was in was made up entirely of men. The previous year there had been two groups which had proudly declared themselves theatre groups comprised only of women. And while I certainly have no issue with women taking a position of advocacy for themselves, we did feel it was somewhat important that therefore it ought to be perfectly acceptable for men to do the same with impunity. For the most part, our move was seen as what it was. Not many people were upset. Though it was clear that the expectation was that we were going to do something that fell into the category of 'collegiate humour.' I suppose large fraternal groups only have one possible trajectory in the minds of the many.
In any case, we didn't go down that road. We created a multi-levelled piece which acknowledged the absence of women amongst us as a group, explored the many possible iterations of what it could mean to be 'missing women' on a personal level, and on top of that, we hid gold when the day we went on, the dual headlines in the paper was the capture of the Green River Killer and a huge step forward in the DTES case that became the Pickton trial. This was particular gold for us in that we already had a format where the entire piece was framed with the eight of us, marching up and down the stage to a primal drum beat with our heads in newspapers. The timing - for us to be able to carry newspapers from the same day with headlines that perfectly fit the theme - put it right over the top.

Secondly - I also got to do a show (The Woman in Black) at the Terry Fox theatre, which is right around the corner from the Pickton farm. We were performing while the farm was being sifted for evidence. I believe the school that the theatre is a part of is even built on land purchased from the Picktons, and it's definitely new enough that there could be some disturbing artifacts buried beneath the foundation. Though presumably no-one would be that stupid - too easy for a body to be uncovered during the excavation process prior to laying the foundation, no?

In any case, the trial will be starting as I write this. The judge is probably setting the stage for the jurors and the media right now.

Should be curious. And as we have no death penalty, you know that after these six charges of murder, unlike Saddam, he will stand trial for the remaining twenty. Oh, the lawyers must have creamed their jeans when the trial got split - all the more money for them!

I kind of feel that few people are in doubt of his guilt right now. The simple fact that for five years they've been gearing up to this without being derailed by some sort of evidence is going to sway people. The real question is - just how badly is he going to be penalized? Which is probably moot beyond this trial. The chances of him getting a sentence that is anything less than the equivalent, if not actual, life without parole is slim to none.